


Hale's Theory of Exclusivity

by kitsunequeen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Derek is jealous but he's not a jerk about it, Fights, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, wow this is WAY less dark than it sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 21:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5307491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsunequeen/pseuds/kitsunequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the request: "Stiles visits a wolf rescue/sanctuary type thing (like the one TW donated to!!) and gets really friendly with the pack alpha and then he comes back and Derek is all angsty because /another alpha's scent is all over Stiles/."<br/>---<br/>“You’re the one,” he huffs, “<em>you’re the one</em> who was always trying to assure me that my past relationships were unhealthy. That I deserved something better. And <em>this? This </em>is your idea of healthy?”</p><p>“Are you seriously throwing that in my face?” Stiles demands, tears suddenly pricking at his eyes. He wipes them away roughly, jamming his hand in his pocket. “That’s- that’s pretty <em>shitty</em>, dude.”</p><p>“Are you kidding me?” Derek seethes. How is this happening? How on Earth is this spiraling so badly? “<em>I’m</em> throwing it in <em>your</em> face? You go around pretending we’re exclusive, and <em>I’m</em> the one acting shitty?”</p><p>“You know what?” Stiles snaps, tears streaming freely now. The room is swirling with the scents of hurt and confusion and anger and betrayal and- “<em>Fuck</em> you, Derek.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hale's Theory of Exclusivity

**Author's Note:**

> *Warnings for very brief mentions of past Derek/Kate and Derek/Jennifer.

Derek smells it the second Stiles steps into the loft.

 

Another guy. Another _alpha_.

 

It’s okay. It’s fine. It’s not like they said they were exclusive or anything. Sure, there had been _unbelievable_ confessions about liking each other since back when Stiles was in high school, and amazement at their obliviousness, and making out, and three months of Stiles hanging around the loft like he owned the place, and- and- But that doesn’t automatically mean exclusivity. They never _said_ they were exclusive. They didn’t.

 

Why the _hell_ didn’t they say they were exclusive? 

 

“Hey, Der. Whatcha been up to?”

 

Stiles pulls his hoodie over his head—his red one, Derek’s favorite—and tosses it on the couch.

 

“I patrolled the perimeter with Isaac earlier,” Derek says, forcing his voice to stay level. “Everything was in order.”

 

Maybe there’s a good explanation. Maybe if he gives Stiles a chance, he’ll explain himself.

 

Stiles snorts.

 

“I swear, dude, you’re the only person who can pull that off without sounding completely ridiculous.” He mimes picking a walkie talkie off his belt, and speaks into it. “‘Roger, roger, this is Alpha Hale. I’ve just completed border patrol, and everything seems to be in order. Over.’” He walks over to where Derek’s leaning against the desk, his arms bracketed a little more firmly than might be entirely necessary, and pushes himself into his side, snaking his arms around Derek’s neck. The smell of _badwrongstrangeralpha_ only intensifies as Stiles’ arm brushes past Derek’s nose, and he doesn’t know what any of this _means_. Stiles’ scent and actions certainly don’t seem to be on the same page. “You sure everything went okay? You seem a little stressed.”

 

“It’s nothing,” Derek says, gently pulling away to go sit on the couch. “Just a long day. Don’t worry about it.”

 

A quick look of confusion flashes across Stiles’ face, before he puts on an overly cheerful smiles and hops up on the desk, legs dangling idly.

 

“If you say so.”

 

“What’ve you been doing all day?” Derek asks, trying to lighten the mood. “I haven’t heard from you.”

 

God, fuck, that sounded clingy.

 

“Nothing much, just hung out with Scott. And ugh, I know, I was gonna text you earlier, but- well, whatever. Not important. Figured I’d just drop by instead. I can’t really stay, though,” he says, frowning as he pulls out his phone to check the time. “I figured I’d just drop in here to say a quick ‘hi’, and then head on home. I told Dad I was making dinner tonight, and if I’m more than three minutes late, I can guarantee you that man will order himself a pizza.”

 

He slides off the desk, and before Derek knows it, Stiles’ lips are pressed against his in a quick kiss. He pulls away for a moment to look at Derek before moving in even closer, lips brushing hotly against his ear.

 

“As adorable as your furrowed eyebrows are, if you want to talk about whatever’s wrong, you should really give me a call later. Or y’know, do things the old fashioned way, and climb in through my bedroom window.”

 

He nips lightly at Derek’s ear, then pulls back, heading for the door.

 

Normally the gesture would drive Derek crazy, but not now. Not when he can smell the other alpha not only in Stiles’ scent, but on his face, in his hair, on his _lips_.

 

They made out. They _must_ have.

 

He hardly Stiles registers calling, “Later!” before shutting the door behind himself.

 

* * *

 

Derek’s being irrational.

 

He knows that, it’s just… How the hell can Stiles smell so much like another alpha and not even care? Doesn’t he know Derek can smell it? Sure, maybe he doesn’t think they’re exclusive, but it’s not like him to flaunt other guys right in Derek’s face. It doesn’t make any sense.

 

He pulls out his phone, deciding the embarrassment from a quick text to Scott and being wrong is well worth putting his mind at ease. Besides, he knows Scott wouldn’t lie to him. He knows Stiles wouldn’t lie to him, either, but the possessive, alpha-driven part of his mind can’t get past the damn smell.

 

**Derek Hale [6:37 PM]**

_Stiles smells a lot like an alpha_

 

He’s purposely open-ended, giving plenty of room for an explanation.

 

**Scott McCall [6:39 PM]**

_Lol well yeah dude_

**Scot McCall [6:39 PM]**

_We partied pretty freaking hard with those wolves today_

**Scott McCall [6:41 PM]**

_What were you expecting?_

 

Derek reads the texts. He reads them again. And again. And again and again and again.

 

Too much. That’s what he was expecting. He always expects too fucking _much_ from people, and then gets crushed. Stiles is just a twenty year old college kid. Maybe Derek was good for a fling, sure. He’s a werewolf, and an alpha, and while it doesn’t mean much to him, he knows he’s conventionally good-looking. _Hot as all fucking hell_ , according to Stiles. Of course it makes sense that Stiles has had a crush on him since high school. All that other stuff he said, though-

 

Derek was too smitten to even listen to his heartbeat.

 

He drops his phone and walks numbly towards the stairs, heading up to his bedroom.

 

* * *

 

_It’s not the first time they’ve been in a life-or-death situation together, and it certainly won’t be the last, but even Derek will willingly admit that it was a pretty damn scary one._

_“-can’t do that,” Stiles is saying. He’s been giving Derek a furious lecture since they escaped the hunters’ den, pausing only to call his father, and then immediately going back to berating Derek, hands gripped too tightly on his steering wheel. They’ve just made it to the loft, where Derek had managed to get a single sentence in, an offer to shower and change clothes, before Stiles huffily accepted and continued his speech. “And frankly, I don’t fucking care if I’m going to die, Derek. That doesn’t mean_ you _throw_ your _ass on the line instead. You have_ no _fucking right to-”_

_“I don’t have the right?” Derek snaps. “You must be joking.”_

_“No, actually, I’m fucking_ not _. There is_ no _reason for you to put yourself in danger like that. None. Ever. If you wanna barge in like a dumbass to save me, fine, whatever, I’ve done it enough times for you. But following their fucking terms? Showing up and offering your life for mine, that’s-”_

_“You could’ve died.”_

_“You could’ve died!” Stiles yells, and it’s one of the few times he’s ever actually yelled at Derek. “Do you not get that? Yeah, okay, you’re a big, bad alpha. Congratu-fucking-lations, Derek. But you know what? There are people who care about you! You have betas to look after, and Scott to teach, and a sister who loves you, and- and you can’t just be the martyr in every situation! Do you understand that? Do you understand how much everyone cares about you? Do you understand how much_ I _care about you?”_

_Derek just stares back at him, wide-eyed, and suddenly Stiles is striding across the loft, and Derek is expecting to be shoved, or to have a finger jammed in his chest, or… or_ anything _, except for Stiles to grab him by the shoulders and kiss him. It’s messy and furious and there’s too much tongue and teeth and nose-bumping on both sides, but Derek has never felt anything better._

_Stiles only pauses for a moment, drawing back the tiniest bit to hiss, “Is this okay?”_

_Derek answers by pulling him back in for another kiss._

_At some point, they end up on the couch, exchanging confessions between kisses, and Derek’s not totally sure this all isn’t just some dream._

_“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this, dude.”_

_Only Stiles could call you dude while making out._

_“Me neither.”_

_“Seriously?”_

_“That time in-” Derek cuts off sharply, breath hitching as Stiles sucks a hickie into his neck. “In the pool. With the kanima. Kinda liked you since then.”_

_“Liked you longer than that,” Stiles breathes against his throat. “I don’t fucking hold just anyone up in the water for two hours. Don’t think this gets you off the hook, though. We’re,” he drops a quick kiss on Derek’s lips, “gonna,” and again, “talk,” again, “about,” again, “this,” again, “later.”_

_They do. Extensively._

_They decide, despite the quickness of tonight, that they’re going to take things slow, for both their sakes._

_They promise to stop being such dumbasses about protecting each other. They both know the other is lying._

_They fall asleep curled up together on Derek’s couch._

* * *

 

This is ridiculous.

 

Derek just needs to suck it up. He shouldn’t be moping around like a jealous teenager. He’s an adult. A mature, completely not jealous adult, who can handle this just fine.

 

But he can’t. He knows it probably makes him the biggest asshole on the planet, but he doesn’t want to share Stiles. Plenty of people date two people at once till they choose, but God, he thought they had something more than that. Thought they’d been through enough together to have something more than that. Maybe it was a stupid assumption, but everything had just sounded so sincere.

 

It almost feels like… cheating? He doesn’t know if it’s fair of him to say that, though. Do people even proclaim exclusivity out loud? He and Paige never did. It was something they both just knew. That’s how it felt with Stiles, too, but…

 

But hey. Maybe it’s better if he just asks. Use his words, as Stiles would say.

 

He picks his phone back up, shooting Stiles a quick text.

 

**Derek Hale [8:44 PM]**

_I need to talk to you. Can I still come over?_

**Stiles Stilinski [8:47 PM]**

_Course, dude. Glad you decided to talk it out_ _:)_

Derek determinedly ignores the pang the innocent little happy face sends through him.

 

He grabs Stiles’ hoodie on his way out the door, purposefully not breathing in the scent of the other alpha still clinging to it. God, there’s even fur on it. What the hell had they been _doing?_

 

* * *

 

“Hey, son,” the sheriff says, opening the front door. “How’s it going?”

 

“Good,” Derek lies. God, they’d even told the sheriff about their relationship. He’d accepted it, too. It feels more and more every moment like this is cheating. “I just came by to talk to Stiles.”

 

“Head on up,” John says, stepping back. “I was just about to head out, but he’s in his room.”

 

“Thank you, sir.”

 

“It’s John!” the sheriff calls as Derek heads up the stairs. “For the millionth time!”

 

“Sorry, s-John!” Derek calls back, as he reaches Stiles’ room.

 

He hears the sheriff chuckle to himself down in the living room.

 

Stiles’ door is propped open, and he’s sitting on his bed, listening to music. When he sees Derek, his face lights up, and he pulls the headphones out and tosses them on his nightstand.

 

“Hey, Der. How’s it hangin’?”

 

Derek shrugs, and Stiles frowns.

 

“Yeah, I kinda figured. You looked a little tense earlier. Everything okay?”

 

Derek shrugs again, sitting on the edge of Stiles’ bed and setting the sweater down, while Stiles gets up and plops back down in his computer chair to face him.

 

They both sit there for a moment, Stiles looking at Derek and Derek looking at the floor.

 

Finally, Derek glances up at him and blurts, “Are we exclusive?”

 

“Oh, uh,” Stiles says, eyes widening a little at the outburst. Then he smiles, soft and warm, eyes crinkling in something like mild confusion. “Yeah, Der, of course. Is that what you were worried about?”

 

Ice rushes through Derek’s veins, from the pit of his stomach to the tips of his toes, and he’s having a very hard time looking at Stiles again. If they _are_ exclusive then Stiles, then he- he was-

_Cheating_.

 

Stiles is _cheating_ on him.

 

“I don’t think I can do this,” Derek says, all in a rush. “Us. I don’t- if we’re- I can’t.”

 

He starts to get up, unable to look at the sympathetic concern on Stiles’ face and know it’s just an act, but Stiles scooches his chair closer, planting a firm hand on Derek’s knee.

 

“Whoa, hey, no,” he says. His tone is soft, like he’s worried he’ll scare Derek away, and that only makes it all hurt more. “No running. What’s the matter?”

 

Derek takes a deep breath, forcing himself to look Stiles in the eyes.

 

“I can’t do this. If we’re exclusive, then…”

 

“Oh,” Stiles says, looking almost… hurt? “I mean… we don’t have to be. If you feel like things are moving too fast, or-”

 

“No,” Derek interrupts. _He_ certainly doesn’t think things are moving too fast. Apparently Stiles does, though, if he’s hiding another guy on the side. “I just- I can’t do this, Stiles.”

 

Stiles looks stricken.

 

Derek doesn’t _get it_. Did he really think Derek wouldn’t care—wouldn’t _notice_ —that Stiles was blatantly cheating on him? Why does Derek do this to himself? Why can’t he have a nice, healthy relationship just once? And God, apparently he was an idiot to think this was one. But it just… it felt so right. He was so. fucking. _sure_. that Stiles was the one. And yet…

 

“No, c’mon, listen,” Stiles insists. “You can’t- you have to tell me what’s wrong. We can get through it, whatever it is. We waited too long for this to just-”

 

“Yeah,” Derek says, standing abruptly. “Yeah, we did. We waited too fucking long for it to end like _this_.”

 

“Like what?” Stiles demands. “I don’t even know what’s going on!”

 

“Oh, _sure!_ ” Derek snaps, sadness quickly turning to anger.

 

The very least Stiles could do is own up to it.

 

“I don’t!” Stiles yells, standing to match Derek’s height. “What’s the _matter_?”

 

They’re right in each other’s faces, and it fucking hurts, because Derek wants to kiss Stiles, not scream at him.

 

“You’re the one,” he huffs, “ _you’re the one_ who was always trying to assure me that my past relationships were unhealthy. That I deserved something better. And _this? This_ is your idea of healthy?”

 

“Are you seriously throwing that in my face?” Stiles demands, tears suddenly pricking at his eyes. He wipes them away roughly, jamming his hand in his pocket. “That’s- that’s pretty _shitty_ , dude.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Derek seethes. How is this happening? How on Earth is this spiraling so badly? “ _I’m_ throwing it in _your_ face? You go around pretending we’re exclusive, and _I’m_ the one acting shitty?”

 

“You know what?” Stiles snaps, tears streaming freely now. The room is swirling with the scents of hurt and confusion and anger and betrayal and- “ _Fuck_ you, Derek.”

 

The last part comes out choked, and it hits Derek right in the gut.

 

He stares, wide-eyed, and he wants to say it back.

 

_Fuck you, Stiles. Fuck you for cheating and fuck you for pretending you cared and fuck you for making me think we had something._

 

He can’t bring himself to say any of that.

 

Instead he turns on his heel, stalking back to the door. He fumbles with the doorknob for a second, because the stupid thing won’t _open_ , and when he finally gets it, Stiles yells, “Sorry for being so fucking _unbearable_ that you can’t stand the thought of having to be tied down to me!” at his retreating back.

 

“Are you-” Derek practically growls, slamming the door as he turns back around. “Seriously, Stiles? You actually want to do this?” He’s breathing too hard and he’s pretty sure there are tears in his eyes—which he will _not_ let spill over, will _not_ let make him look any more pathetic than he already does—and he should just go the fuck home, but he can’t. Can’t stand the idea of leaving this relationship on such bad terms, of not even understanding why Stiles is doing this, of throwing away the best relationship he’s ever had without even knowing what went wrong. “You’re going to pretend that _I’m_ the one who doesn’t want _you_?”

 

Stiles lets out a sharp, bitter laugh.

 

“Gee, Derek, well _let me see_. You asked if we were exclusive, I said yes, and suddenly you’re _disgusted_ with the idea of having anything to do with me. So yeah, actually, that’s _exactly_ what I would say.”

 

“Disgusted with you? I’m- The only one with a problem with this relationship is _you_ , if you feel like you need to cheat on me!”

 

“I need to- _What?_ What the actual, literal _fuck_ are you talking about? I’m not cheating on you!”

 

“Oh, really? You’re not? Well, tell that to _Scott_.”

 

Stiles snaps his mouth open and shut a few times, jaw working like he’s trying to think of some sort of defense, but can’t.

 

Yeah, Derek thinks savagely. There really isn’t much of a defense, anymore.

 

Some part of him, the part that’s having a meltdown over this entire situation, feels bad for being the one to let Stiles know his best friend had betrayed him. And why _had_ Scott done that, anyway? Did he think Stiles and Derek were over already? Was it just so blatantly obvious to everyone but him that the two of them didn’t work?

 

Stiles voice is lower, harder, when he finally manages, “You think I’m cheating on you with _Scott?_ Straight Scott? Scott who’s dating Kira? Scott who might as well be my literal brother? _That Scott?”_

 

“No!” Derek doesn’t really care that he’s the only one yelling now, because he’s literally put it right out in the open, said he _knows_ Stiles is cheating on him, and Stiles still won’t give up the act. “I think- no, I _know_ , you’re cheating with some other werewolf. I know you spent the whole day partying with some other pack. I know you kissed some other guy. You really think I can’t smell it on you? His scent on your body, on your _lips?_ He even left fur on your stupid sweater! And Scott _confirmed_ it. So.” He huffs. Quiets himself. His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks again, and it’s more sincere than any of the terrible things he’s said tonight. “So I’m sorry if I’m not good enough for you, and I’m sorry if I rushed you into this, and I’m sorry if I’m too fucked up to know how to handle a real relationship without screwing it up, and- I’m sorry.”

 

He stands there for a moment, barely breathing, fully intent on storming out the second he can make himself.

 

Before he has a chance to move, to even register it, really, there are strong arms wrapped around him, and Stiles’ head is on his shoulder, and he is so, so confused.

 

“Oh my God,” Stiles is muttering, over and over and over. “Oh my God, you’re such an idiot. Scott is such an idiot. Oh my God. My two favorite people in the world are _idiots_.” He pulls back, but keeps his hands planted firmly on Derek’s shoulders, holding them arm’s length apart. “Guess I’m an idiot too though, huh?”

 

Derek just stares at him, utterly bewildered.

 

“You said I smell like wolves, right?” Stiles asks. “My lips smell like wolves?”

 

“Yeah,” Derek says, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. It’s actually not that hard, when Stiles is looking at him with those big, earnest eyes. “You do.”

 

“Right,” Stiles says. “And what did the text from Scott say?”

 

“I said you smelled like another alpha, and he said, ’L-O-L, well yeah, dude’,” Derek quotes, having read and reread horrible the texts enough times to remember immediately. “’We partied pretty freaking hard with those wolves. What were you expecting?’ Like he thought I should’ve _known_ you were- you know.”

 

Stiles closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep, long-suffering breath.

 

“I _do_ smell like wolves,” he says. “ _Actual_ wolves. From a wolf reserve, a few towns over. I’ve been looking for part time jobs to apply for, so Scott and I spent the day there, playing with the different packs. I didn’t tell you because I wanted to surprise you when I finally got a job. One of the alphas licked my mouth at one point, and I didn’t wash my face or anything before I dropped by your place. Hence the fur, hence the smell, hence the text from Scott. Who I probably should’ve told to keep it a secret, but… I don’t know. I didn’t exactly _foresee_ this scenario.”

 

Derek stares at him.

 

He feels himself go pale, and he takes a staggering step backwards.

 

Stiles follows him though, keeping his hold.

 

“Derek?”

 

“Oh my God.”

 

“Derek, are you okay?”

 

Holy shit.

 

Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit_.

 

He called Stiles a cheater and a liar and didn’t even give him a chance to explain himself and-

 

“ _Derek_. Are. You. Okay?”

 

“I’m sorry. Oh my God. Stiles, I’m-” Derek stammers, because he seriously _cannot fucking believe_ what he just did. “I’ll just- I’ll go.”

 

“What is with you and the running away tonight?” Stiles asks, even though Derek hadn’t actually made another move to leave. “It’s _fine_ , Derek.”

 

Derek’s not quite sure what face he makes, but whatever it is, it makes Stiles laugh.

 

“Seriously, Der. It is.”

 

“No,” Derek says, shaking his head. “No, I accused you of cheating, and lying, and-”

 

“And you had a pretty good reason to. A lot of pretty good reasons, actually.”

 

“But I didn’t even let you _explain_. And I,” he lowers his voice even more, shame washing over him, “Stiles, I compared you to _Kate_ and _Jennifer_.”

 

“You did,” Stiles says, nodding seriously. “And it really, really hurt, when I didn’t understand why. But Der, they both used you in relationships, and that’s what you thought I was doing. And you’re right, man. I do always lecture you on standing up for yourself and the importance of healthy relationships and stuff. No one to blame but myself, as they say.”

 

And that… that is just _not_ true.

 

“You shouldn’t be comforting me!” Derek says emphatically. “ _I_ did this to _you_. I made you think that I didn’t want to date you, and that I hated the thought of being with you, and that you did something wrong. I made you _cry_. That’s not okay.”

 

“No,” Stiles says slowly. “No, it wasn’t, but it is now. Plus, loathe as you may be to admit it, you were kinda just crying too, dude. And it’s not easy to make the big bad wolf cry.” He winks. “It was just a big misunderstanding, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Derek agrees, voice low. “But still, Stiles. I didn’t even give you a _chance_.”

 

“Der,” Stiles says, punching him lightly on the arm. “You held your tongue the whole time I was at your loft, you gave me the benefit of the doubt and texted Scott first, you came over here to ask me calmly instead of just flipping out, and when it looked like I was lying right to your face, _then_ you got upset. Rightfully upset. Now I’m not saying you and Sherlock Holmes should be best buds or anything, but c’mon. It would’ve looked to anyone like I was cheating.”

 

Derek squeezes his eyes shut. Swallows. Nods.

 

“Okay,” he breathes, after a moment. “I’m sorry.”

 

“I know,” Stiles says, leaning in and kissing him right on the nose. “That’s why it’s okay.”

 

Derek _does not_ blush.

 

“You still want to go out?” he asks, trying not to sound too surprised, too hopeful.

 

“Of course, doofus,” Stiles laughs. “It was just one fight. One _stupid_ fight. In fact,” he goes back to gripping Derek’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “Derek Hale,” he says, voice loud and official. “Will you be my _exclusive_ boyfriend?”

 

“Oh my God,” Derek groans. The tips of his ears are definitely pink, now. “ _Stiles_.”

 

“Will you,” Stiles repeats, louder. “Derek Hale, take me, Stiles Stilinski, as your exclusive boyfriend?”

 

“Yes,” Derek says quietly.

 

“Ha!” Stiles says, throwing his hand up for a high five. “Hell yeah!”

 

Derek can’t keep from laughing as he weakly high fives him. He’s pretty sure that’s the point.

 

“So how about,” Stiles says, finally taking a step back. “I go take a shower? Get all this wolf stink off me.”

 

“Sounds good,” Derek says, more thankful than he probably should be.

 

“And how bout,” Stiles adds, lacing his fingers through Derek’s, “you join me? _Boyfriend_.”

 

“That,” Derek says, nodding, “sounds _really_ good.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Visit me on tumblr at [stilesbansheequeen](http://stilesbansheequeen.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated<3


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